


An Abundance Of Satellites

by blueaurora



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, First Kiss, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Weed, a lot of overthinking, and misunderstandings, but happy ending, love hater!yeosang, san enjoys sex, sunshine!san, there's one yunsang moment, yeosang crosses the entire universe inside his own brain to realize he is in love with san
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29111205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueaurora/pseuds/blueaurora
Summary: Yeosang is not one that believes love is dead but he does believe butterflies drowned in the gastric acid of his stomach when he was fourteen and decided love wasn't his thing.Unfortunately for him, Choi San does not think alike.or the sexy adventures of love constipated Yeosang and sunshine San as they realize they are a match made in the stars.
Relationships: Choi San/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	An Abundance Of Satellites

**Author's Note:**

> totally not based on the last Yeosang's omniscient view where yeosang showed us how one gaze from san is enough to melt him to his core :)
> 
> a few things to have in mind:  
> \- this is just an excuse to write yeosang being head over heels san like I am  
> \- I have everything planned but updates might be super irregular bc I am lazy af  
> \- I'm not the best at smut yet they'll be fucking a lot im sorry  
> \- yeosang will be smitten since the very beggining but he will also be in denial  
> \- there are a lot of universe and stars and galaxies references pls don't mind them  
> \- I'm writing this to surfeit my sansang hunger so maybe it's not as poetic and deep as my others fics
> 
> all said if you are here, know you have my love already. I hope it's not horrible!!

* * *

Yeosang is not one that believes love is dead but he does believe butterflies drowned in the gastric acid of his stomach when he was fourteen and decided love wasn't his  _ thing. _

There are nights in where Wooyoung would crawl all the way to his chest and lay his head there, rub his nose against the soft, lavender scented fabric of the hoodie he has been wearing for the last month as pajamas and in the most sweet, condolence voice, he would say: 

"Yeosang, whoever broke your heart is on sight." 

Yeosang always frowns and threads his fingers in the black tangle of Wooyoung's hair, staring at his bedroom ceiling with just one thought in mind. No one really broke his heart. It sounds like a lie, because Yeosang runs away from love like birds from a cat. But he is just an average, social inept twenty-one year old boy that's callow when it comes to love. 

The chances of falling in love have always been ridiculously small to the point Yeosang himself thought of life being nothing but a weed induced dream because  _ everyone _ deserves love. Even if it ends badly, as his mother used to tell him after every bedtime story, everyone deserves to be loved good at least once in life.

It never happened to Yeosang. 

No one ever fell for him and by the time he entered college he had already swallowed and digested the fact romantic love wasn't his thing, even when Yunho is certain love isn't something you can own, but a gravitational feeling, whatever he means with that. Yeosang doesn't care because inside his personal universe there's no room for butterflies, love, and everything in between—and Yunho smokes too much weed.

And just as no one ever fell in love with Yeosang, he hasn't fallen in love as well. Tiny crushes, of course. Attraction and unbidden boners while thinking about collarbones and veiny hands. But never love. 

It's weird, because everyone around him knows the taste, almost like it's a part of young life  _ no one _ misses. And Yeosang, well, he only knows about the taste of sex. For now, it's kinda nice and it's kinda enough for him.

The world shaped him like that: a no strings attached person. Having sex just because he is young and horny, not going deeper than the simplicity of two bodies emptying all the stress together. No kisses, no morning cuddles, no corny texts. 

No love. 

Yeosang is happy. Yeosang is happy people love, and to know people is loved at the other side of his tiny room window. Yeosang is not the one that hates love, he is just the one that's not interested at all in finding the so-called sweet taste of love.

And even when he considers himself a very chill person with not a single record of violence—even when he really feels like throwing punches at Wooyoung every time he mixes their underwear after doing laundry—, Yeosang is totally ready to punch Cupid on his chubby face if he dares to aim his ridiculously sugar coated arrows at him. 

Love is not Yeosang's thing, and that's what keeps the order of the world intact. What keeps Yeosang's heart unbreakable.

Forget about Wooyoung's sad eyes and Yunho's long conversations about satellites. 

Yeosang is just fine, there's no need for love. 

⭒⋆

How Yeosang ends up with his nose bruised and sitting next to a boy that seems to have a weirdly yet cute obsession with fireflies in one of Seonghwa's famous parties is still unknown for the world. 

Wooyoung came to him after lunch, while Yeosang was dedicating some time to self care and glueing his nose to the screen of his laptop as  _ Howl's Moving Castle  _ played, too lazy to rise to his feet and walk the exact three strides to his desk, where his glasses laid forgotten. 

"We are going to a party," Wooyoung threw at him and then he threw his entire body weight on top of Yeosang, not only crushing his bones but also all his demurs because it was 4 PM and he was sleepy and there's no one strong enough to say no to Wooyoung. 

Not even Yeosang. 

At 9 PM sharp Yeosang stands in the middle of a hubbub of college students, all of them circling Seonghwa and his perfect demonstration that he was born to perform Chungha's  _ Dream of You _ . As much enthusiasm as Wooyoung oozes, both arms in the air and loud screaming right next of Yeosang's sensitive ears, Yeosang can't help but feel this was an error. Something that wasn't supposed to happen at all.

Something that could disturb the neat order of Yeosang's world. 

Parties aren't Yeosang's thing as well. 

He is an anime geek and he is pretty sure none of the bouncing bodies around him would cheerfully disengage from the loud music and frantic body rubbing—your classic college dancing—to start a conversation about how spokon have better love stories than romcom. Well, maybe there's one, but Yeosang's not the type to start conversations.

(Yeosang is just the type that does  _ nothing _ , and he is happy like that).

One second into the party and he wants to ditch it already to crash into the comfort of his own bed.

"Let's drink," Yunho happily croons, getting a hand close to Yeosang's face, speaking into his ear. "What do you want?"

Yeosang gets on his tiptoes, mirroring the movement.

"To go home."

"Rum for Yeosangie, it is." Yunho blatantly ignores him, fingers curling around Yeosang's wrist as they squeeze their way through the amount of people Seonghwa managed to get inside of his tiny apartment. 

Truth be told, Yeosang likes Seonghwa's apartment better when there's not that many people neither the pungent smell of sweat thinning the air. Yeosang has been there just once because Seonghwa is a dancer, like Wooyoung, and Wooyoung tried to set them together—Yeosang and Seonghwa. 

It was a failure. 

Seonghwa is an amazing guy, and Yeosang wouldn't mind taking him to bed, but Seonghwa wants sweet love. He seeks a relationship filled with dates, and cuddles and eskimo kisses and Yeosang's stomach dropped to his ass, sucked by a whirlpool of fear with the idea sketching at the back of his mind.

Yeosang is a virgin when it comes to love. Even if the day where he stops running away arrives and he stands with his arms spreaded in the air for love to fit his chest, he would stand totally naked before it. Even if he opens to love, he will be still scared as fuck because it would be the first time and the only memory Yeosang has of first times is  _ messy _ and  _ agonizing _ and something he wouldn't get his face in again even if they paid him to do it. 

So he kindly rejected Wooyoung's shamelessly flirting (flirting for him? Wooyoung really did all the flirting, and Yeosang was both thankful that he didn't have to say a word and amazed by how hard Wooyoung tries to find love) and never again came back into Seonghwa's flat. He remembers it though. White walls and a corner full of succulents, a soft lemon scent coming from the couch and a cozy balcony suited for two people maximum. 

As they make their way to the kitchen, Yeosang wonders where all the succulents are, and if they are okay with having their space invaded like that. He also gives bedroom eyes to the balcony, the only empty place now. It seems to be beckoning Yeosang's name. 

Yunho pours him a raw glass of rum, pulling him back to the rowdy reality and a painfully illuminated kitchen that although not being as crowded as the living room still displays a few groups of people sharing drinks and conversations. 

"Where's the cola?" Yeosang scrunches his nose, sniffing the liquid. His stomach curls in distaste. He is not used to alcohol at all. 

"Just drink it. You need to be wild once in life, Yeosang," Yunho beams, brightly, then he pours the liquor directly in his own mouth, wildly. 

Both Yunho and Wooyoung are so wild, so alike between each other but contrasting like day and night when it comes to Yeosang. It makes Yeosang's wonder how the fuck did the become friends in the first place. 

Maybe it all started with Wooyoung. 

Yeosang met Wooyoung one fateful night at a ramen place. First week of college, Yeosang had tripped with his feet and nailed his elbow on Wooyoung's ribs, both of them falling together and staining their clothes in broth because Wooyoung refused to let go of his precious ramen. Yeosang, that had never been with approaching people, felt like dying. His soul was slowly leaving his body and taking the stairs to heaven when Wooyoung laughed and elbowed him on the chest, making him gasp in pain but bringing him back to life at the same time. 

It's kind of foggy how they reached the moment of Wooyoung biting one of Yeosang's arms, but that occurred less than twenty-four hours after the ramen incident, and Yeosang guessed that marked—him,  _ literally _ —them as best friends.

Yeosang's very first best friend. 

Wooyoung introduced him to Yunho a few weeks later. Tall and ravishing and with his head full of galaxies—and a pocketful of weed that helped a lot in the becoming friends process. Yeosang wasn't in search of more friends but there's nothing he could do against a six feet tall puppy talking about Jupiter's moons with literal stars in his eyes and free weed for lazy Sundays.

Yeosang's second best friend. 

They did all the work. Yeosang was just his usual self and they were the ones approaching him, so that's for the win. Yeosang won't ever change to please another person, and he is too independent to find friends on his own. It's not like he doesn't want friends, it's more like he is not suitable for friendship. 

For instance, he once got a bean plant for his birthday, and he was delighted. For a week, his new friend was the only thing in his mind; watering always at seven in the afternoon sharp and having one way conversations because he read plants react greatly to people's voices. Then, Yeosang easily got distracted with his humdrum routine and forgot about it. And the plant died. And he stood in front of it, a pool of guilt warming his feet.

The same goes with people. If watering is texting and talking is hanging out, Yeosang will have energy to do it just for the first week. Then comes the late replies and the  _ 'I'm sorry I can't make it, I have a big project incoming'  _ but the big project is another  _ Haikyuu!!  _ episode. 

Sometimes Yeosang thinks something's wrong with him. He doesn't fit in the world not even in the conception of you being the main character of your own life. Yeosang feels like an extra with no lines in what's supposed to be his biggest hit, and that's grueling.

That's why he doesn't try anymore. It makes him feel guilty over and over again. The only reason Wooyoung and Yunho are still friends with him lies in the fact they share a flat. Wooyoung is always invading his room and Yeosang… Yeosang really finds comfort talking with Yunho inside the bathtub at ass in the morning, pretending life is just an idea floating around and the only thing that matters is how they feel. 

Yeosang feels the most real inside the tub. 

"I'm going to catch some air," Yeosang says, placing the full glass on the table, words dying in the air because Yunho has been pulled into a conversation.

And Yeosang, Yeosang is once again invisible. 

Leaving the kitchen and moving to the balcony without taking a single drop of alcohol is what triggers it. 

Or maybe it's Seonghwa's unasked and stifling party. 

Or Yunho and his misconception that love can cure anything. 

Or Wooyoung and his elbow nailing so deep within Yeosang's chest it changed something inside his heart. 

Or much older than all of that.

Six year old Yeosang standing under the sizzling sun of the summer, witnessing the fake wedding of two kids from his school. Paper rings and paper smiles. All the other kids holding hands, claiming to be couples. 

Yeosang was alone with a sweaty hand. 

The voice of his mother echoes somewhere along his mind when she repeats those five exasperating words. 

_ Everyone deserves to be loved.  _

It's a chain reaction that starts with not being good enough to be a fake boyfriend in a fake wedding at just six years old and somehow, decades later, knocks one domino piece that has Choi San's name on it. 

⭒⋆

Yeosang trips with his own feet and clashes against the sticky floor not three minutes into his quest towards freedom. On the floor, fingers sticking to some spilled drinks and cigarette ends, Yeosang wants to let out the most sarcastic laugh the world had ever heard from him.

The dance floor resumes to a tiny living room and there's barely no room for him to move without getting stomped on his toes and elbowed on his ribs yet he manages to fall and find the floor. The world is always choosing shortcuts to avoid Yeosang, repealing him like his body weighs him down with magnets. Yeosang feels invisible, but it doesn't hurt anymore because of how used he is to it. Is his nose the one that hurts right now.

And how badly Yeosang wishes he could be at home watching anime instead of being some ghost at a party. 

There's someone propped against the railing of Seonghwa's balcony when Yeosang finally manages to break away from the party and taste the night air on his bruised nose. Jet black hair striking against a pale nape glimmering underneath the moonlight. 

The first thing Yeosang realizes it's the tattoo on the boy's nape. A little saturn. It's cute, as cute as two circles coming together can be. It's simple. One circle, then another one encircling it. 

Yeosang loves simplicity. 

He groans in annoyance when he misses a step, trips again and crashes against the crystal door. At his back, his little whimper is not loud enough to stop the party. Ahead of him, Saturn finishes his ellipse path to stop and invade Yeosang's calm system. 

The boy calmly occupying the small balcony twists on his heels, attracted by the sound. Yeosang is standing in the middle, one foot still inside the apartment, both hands on his nose. He curses internally, because Saturn is hot. 

And he stupidly embarrassed himself in front of Yunho's second favorite planet.

"Are you okay?" The boy asks, voice below a whisper but still managing to drip stars into the vast darkness. 

Yeosang cries internally. 

He just wanted some fresh air and now that calm idea is dusting in front of his eyes, and it's not like he can kick the boy out because 1) that's not a Yeosang thing to do and 2) the boy is the embodiment of all those satellites Yunho likes to talk about, even if Yeosang doesn't understand shit.

He strangely glows underneath the moonlight. And his eyes are able to catch Yeosang's translucent figure there. 

"I've had better nights," Yeosang says after an awkward minute of silence, pulling his hands back to sigh in relief when he doesn't find blood. Breaking his nose would just make him cry, and Yeosang can't cry in front of a hot stranger. 

"I see," the boy says, the edges of his lips moving upward in a smile. "Are you here to watch the fireflies?"

Yeosang arches his brows, finally leaving the party at his back and moving forward, hands on the rail, observing the world that opens from there. Seonghwa's apartment has a wide park filled with tall trees ahead. From there, Yeosang can see just the treetops glowing in the dark. 

"Those aren't fireflies, just the streetlights breaking through the leaves," Yeosang replies, a tad bit disappointed. He has never seen a firefly in his life.

"I know that," the boy giggles and the balcony is so small that when he leans in, one of his fingers softly rubs against Yeosang's. Yeosang gazes at him through a squint. The boy's eyes are flaring in the dark. Yeosang has never seen a pair of eyes like these. "I've grown up in the countryside, I used to play with fireflies all the time. There aren't fireflies in the city but I am a fierce believer that imagination will save us from perdition," the stranger flashes him a smile. "And those lights really remind me of home."

Yeosang listens in silence, brain working fast, invisible fingers flipping every single file Yeosang has stored from the past three years.

He doesn't have a clue about who this person is. It's not like he knows everyone on campus, but Wooyoung and Yunho do. Among the good things living with social butterflies had brought Yeosang lies the one that, even when he barely leaves his room, he ends up meeting people—which is quite a relief because it's the only way Yeosang gets laid. After three years, Yeosang is able to add some names to blurry faces without a problem. 

The boy that tilts his head and blatantly scrutinises his face like they aren't mere strangers has that aura Yunho adores. Kind of magical. Making the skin tingle. Pouring smiles without even trying. It's the type of person Yunho babbles about during their bathtub nights. 

No name comes to Yeosang's mind. He has never heard of this boy before in his life, and that's kind of nice. That means he got to stand before someone way before Yunho and Wooyoung did. 

"Your nose is bleeding," the boy deadpans. He speaks softly, making Yeosang wonder how the hell is he getting the sound so loud in his ears when the music is still blasting through the open doors. 

Yeosang takes both hands to his nose again. A jab of pain spreads over his face but there's no blood on his fingers. His lips part, late realizing the boy must be taunting him because Yeosang so ridiculously ate a crystal door in front of him, but no words make it out.

The boy—Saturn boy, Firefly boy, Unnamed boy, Yeosang is having a hard time deciding how to call him—leans forward, one hand brushing the air. Yeosang swears his heart falters because of how close he gets—Pretty boy is added to the list. 

Then, he is pressing a thumb on Yeosang's nose. Not so softly. It hurts. Yeosang tries to move back but there's already a hand on his waist keeping him close—not that the ridiculously small balcony gives him enough room to freely move. 

When the stranger breathes, Yeosang gets strawberries all over his skin. 

"You got a scratch," he says and when he pulls his finger back, his fair skin is softly stained in red. "Does it hurt?"

"Well, thanks to you, now it hurts more," Yeosang clicks his tongue, emphasizing the  _ hurt _ and the  _ more. _

And just with that, the boy is giggling again. It makes Yeosang mad for some unknown reason.

"Here," he says, voice still chirping with a type of mirth that can only flow from a few glasses of alcohol fizzing in his blood. Yeosang sighs. He can't get mad at a drunk boy. He kind of reminds him of Wooyoung and everyone knows how weak Yeosang is for the boy. 

With a swift movement, he is raising a bandaid in the air. The only thing that comes across Yeosang's mind is the  _ 'why would he walk around with bandaids in his pocket?' _

"Don't move," he asks, getting closer to Yeosang again, intoxicating him with the strawberry scent in the way. For a reason beyond his comprehension, Yeosang obeys. May it be because no one really stopped the dancing to help him rise to his feet. May it be because of how soothing the eyes of this stranger are.

Without saying a word, the boy with a thousand nicknames gently molds the bandaid over the bridge of Yeosang's nose, warm breath skimming his skin when he talks.

"Clean it once you are home, we don't want that pretty nose to get infected," something whirls inside Yeosang's throat, totally driven by the way the stranger smiles. Softly. Lips barely moving. But Yeosang kind of catches the smile, because they are close and the sound is ticklish on his skin. "This will stop the bleeding."

Yeosang is sure he  _ isn't  _ bleeding that much, but he is glad there was someone turning lights into fireflies and keeping a pocketful of bandaids in Seonghwa's balcony.

"What's your name?" Yeosang finally blows.

"San," he replies, eyes turning into crescents. "And you are?"

"Yeosang."

"You need to be more careful or you'll fall and hurt yourself, Yeosang."

For a brief second, where the world stops spinning and Yeosang is able to stand straight without fear of tripping and tumbling down, he allows himself to think San is the perfect name for a boy that holds an entire galaxy in his eyes. 

⭒⋆

They close the balcony doors at some point, sitting side by side giving their backs to the _ fireflies _ but having them very present in their conversation. 

San does all the talking. Yeosang is glad because he doesn't have a lot of hot topics to share but the idea of going back into the apartment and searching for Yunho, then searching for Wooyoung, then managing to not lose them and go home sounds exhausting. So he stays with San and listens to the dozen of stories he has about the fireflies he met back in his hometown. 

With his legs glued to his chest, cheek resting over one knee, Yeosang observes San. He is hot and soft at the same time. His face oozes hot vibes, from his piercing eyes to his perfect nose to his sexy eyebrow split to plump lips to his sharp jawline. But his voice is dripping honey with every word. And the glow past the sharpness of his eyes is enough to light up the entire universe— _ and  _ maybe Yeosang has spent way too many bathtub nights with Yunho. 

It's weird that Yeosang doesn't have any records of San. For what he catches before losing himself in his own thoughts, they are the same age, San has been around campus for as many years as Yeosang has. He is the type that would drive Wooyoung crazy and Wooyoung never shuts up about these types of boys. San doesn't look at all like the type of boy that hides from the world. He helped Yeosang so selflessly without even knowing each other that it's not difficult to point out San is another version of Yunho.

He makes friends easily, he draws people in with just a smile. The type of human that makes love and friendship and breathing warm and easy. It scares Yeosang a little but he can't bring himself to stand up and leave. 

He is mesmerized. 

And San has a patch of golden freckles drawing galaxies on his neck. 

"Yeosang, do you like boys?" San's words are soon echoing in his mind, and Yeosang notices how engrossed he has been that the fireflies conversation drifted into something more mundane. Something Yeosang is more used to. And something less scary.

His heart beats slowly inside his chest when he scrunches his nose. San is attentively looking at him. For a moment, they seem to know each other from before. Just two distant friends catching up after years without knowing about the other. 

"Yeah?"

"You're not sure?"

Yeosang shakes his head, all his thoughts crashing against each other and becoming dust.

"No. I like boys. I am not sure why would you be asking me this." 

San was just talking about fireflies. Maybe that's why Yeosang can't have friends. He gets lost in his own world way too easily, missing half the story in the way. 

"You weren't paying attention to me," San says and Yeosang pouts. He pouts, because deep down the layers of coldness he wants to exude, he is nothing but a squishy overthinking mass of tangled feelings. And even when San speaks so nonchalantly, Yeosang can't help but think about his bean plant. He watched it wilt, he did nothing to stop it. How can he prevent a person from wilting under his touch if he didn't try to save a plant?

"I'm sorry," he blurts, throwing his head back, eyes fixed on the sky. Dark, so artificially illuminated it turns dark because there are no stars in sight. Just light pollution. "I'm tired. I didn't wanna come."

"Me neither," San smiles, knees bumping together in abetment. "That's why I asked you."

Yeosang turns his head to raise a brow at San.

"If you are trying to make small talk just because neither of us wanted to be here, save it," Yeosang huffs, tiredly, then San's eyes squeeze his heart and guilt is dripping into his stomach once again. "I mean, we aren't friends, there's no need to be talking. We can just wait here and bet who will get to leave first. I appreciate the firefly talk, though."

San chuckles loud, rolling his eyes. "You weren't paying attention," he repeats. 

"It was nice," Yeosang tries to save himself. It's not like he will be seeing San again, but he doesn't want San's records of him to be labelled as  _ that rude kid I met at a party.  _

"It was boring," San stresses. "Who talks about fireflies at a party?"

Yeosang bets his ass Yunho would have the perfect galactic answer for that. Something along the lines  _ boys with stardust in their veins _ . But Yeosang is not Yunho and Yeosang just wants to go home and sleep.

"People who don't want to be at a party?"

"Maybe," San shrugs, then he smiles at Yeosang. "Then, you like boys."

Yeosang groans. "What's so interesting about that? Yeah, I like dick. Got any problem with that?"

San's smile grows even bigger, making Yeosang's frown dispel in one heartbeat. One of San's hands falls on Yeosang's thigh but he barely notices the touch, too focused on the way San's eyes are one hundred eighty nine times prettier than the night sky.

He gulps, ambushed by an unknown feeling that makes his heart skip a beat.

"I was hoping to suck your dick."

It's not the first time Yeosang listens to those words, and he is known to be very calm during sex encounters. This time his entire body shudders in response, San's voice nibbling on the skin of his nape. And a dash of madness hits him from behind. 

"What?"

"That's much more interesting, right?" San smiles cheekily, getting closer. Yeosang finally feels the way his thumb brushes against the fabric of his jeans, a pool of goosebumps eating him alive spreading from there. 

Yeosang looks into San's eyes and feels invaded, and that's something he never experienced; look into someone else's eyes and feel diffident. He looks away in a second, eyes on the party that's reaching the crest of the wave unaware of them there laying on the floor like that. 

"Can I?" San appeals. 

"Here?"

Yeosang nervously looks around. The balcony is tiny and the floor they are sitting in is dirty and mostly staining his jeans in the remains of the morning's drizzle. Not the place to have his dick sucked, even if his body is already blatantly betraying him and positively reacting to San's words. 

"No. Your flat? Mine's half an hour from here."

Yeosang squints through San's eloquence, feeling iffy for the first time standing in front of a potential one-night stand. 

"Are you drunk?"

San shakes his head, unfazed. His thumb brushes harder against Yeosang's thigh. He doesn't look as drunk as Yeosang guessed earlier, very much awake and alive. Yeah. San looks so alive it makes Yeosang fall in a whirlpool of unnamed emotions. He wishes he had accepted that glass of raw rum just so he wouldn't have the strength to remain awake and fall for those galaxy eyes. 

"Then?" His voice doesn't reach a whisper. 

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed how hot you are," San rears back, eyes opening wide in surprise. 

Yeosang is the one shaking his head this time, using more strength than he actually needs. 

"It's not that. It sounds like you are asking it because of my lack of interest in fireflies and not because you want to."

Not that Yeosang cares. Maybe a little, but he doesn't know a single thing about San—he would know a bit of him if he had paid attention to his incessant childhood stories instead of getting engrossed about the fact how such a boy managed to avoid Wooyoung and Yunho for three years. 

"I just feel like doing it. You don't need a reason to put a dick in your mouth." San moves his lips in a thin smile, two dimples digging on his cheeks and squeezing the air out of Yeosang's lungs in the way when he says: "I only talk about fireflies with boys I potentially want to suck off, you know."

"Oh."

Yeosang relaxes a little, feeling like a dumbass. San seeps a hand between his thighs again, preventing him to merge in his thoughts. He gives him a squeeze and Yeosang's lips part in a total unprompted giggle. A tad bit awkward, all said. He feels the way his skin pools with fire, but San doesn't seem to notice.

He is focused on Yeosang's eyes only.

"What do you think?"

"Hmm." Yeosang inhales, keeping the air inside his lungs for a few seconds. He closes his eyes. "Sure. Cool." 

What can go wrong? This isn't any different to what Yeosang is already used to. 

"Cool," San sticks his tongue in a grin, rising to his feet. He tends one hand to Yeosang, helping him up.

And opening his eyes, Yeosang notices San has such small, smooth, adorable hands. But in one of his fingers, there's a tattoo of a shooting star. 

⭒⋆

It's not the first time Yeosang takes someone to the apartment but it's totally the first time he holds hands with that someone on the way. Obviously, it's not his idea at all, because Yeosang  _ doesn't hold hands.  _ It's totally San's doing. 

The boy doesn't let go of Yeosang's hand once they manage to squeeze between the blistering ocean of people and as he starts talking about his childhood again without giving Yeosang the chance to mutter not even a  _ thank you _ , Yeosang decides he doesn't mind to hold hands for the night. 

It's not like San is paying attention to him and Yeosang himself gets lost in San's features and his own thoughts one foot under the streetlights anyway. 

Reaching the apartment, they move fast to Yeosang's room, falling in silence for the first time. Yeosang notices how sweaty his hand is just when San breaks the hold apart. A dash of embarrassment soaks him as he swiftly dries the palm of his hand on the fabric of his jeans.

San stands in the middle of the room, slightly looking around, unaware of Yeosang's small fussing over sweaty hands—sweaty  _ everything _ , Yeosang notices, a thin layer of sweat covering his skin by the time he lays his eyes on San's profile; such a nice profile. 

"Nice room," San deadpans, gesturing in the air. "Very unfurnitured."

Yeosang's room is filled in white. From the walls to the blankets to the only desk where he barely spends time anymore since Wooyoung introduced to him the magic of studying in bed. There are no posters on the walls nor clothes piled down the chair. 

Everything is clean and tidy.

"I like the comfort simplicity brings." Yeosang shrugs, fingers drumming over his legs. 

San chuckles, peering at him from his shoulder.

"You wouldn't like my room, then," he says in such an alluring voice it has Yeosang on his toes, forehead slightly wrinkling alone to those words. 

"Why?"

"I don't think that's something I should be telling my one-night stand." San shakes his head, twisting on his heels to stand in front of Yeosang. "Too much information."

Yeosang is the one chuckling now, back meeting the closed door. 

"You blatantly told me your entire childhood jumping around fireflies." 

Not that Yeosang remembers a thing about it, but it is still a fact. San's smile grows bigger and with it, he brings the dimples. Yeosang's pretty content with the looks he was granted, he never really envied someone else's features, but he always wanted dimples. Dimples are different; cute and the perfect killing weapons. 

Much more if you're an expert on the subject (of course, San is skilled on dimples, willingly choosing a dimple smile to corner Yeosang).

"Do you maybe want to turn this night into something deeper?" San asks derisively, hand motioning between the two of them.

Yeosang takes a deep breath, the air soughing its way inside.

"No, thanks."

"Perfect." San seems okay with that and Yeosang internally breathes out in relief that he is not like that girl that started crying because she got the wrong idea about the whole thing and Yeosang ended up comforting her. Totally dressed and without a loophole because they were on Yeosang's room. A night he doesn't want to repeat. 

"Pants down," San says, relaxed.

San crosses the space between them in two strides, both arms already moving to land on Yeosang's waist. Yeosang escapes San's fingers with amazingly fast reflexes, moving to one side. His fingers meet the smooth wall behind his back.

"Let me take a shower first."

San scowls, muddled up. "Why?"

"Because I am all sweaty and gross." Yeosang is already moving close to his wardrobe when San's fingers enclose around his wrist, pulling from him. Yeosang's back is meeting the wall and before he can even manage to take a breath, he has San's crotch rubbing against his own. 

It's quite soft as neither of them are fully hard yet, but Yeosang can feel San's bulge lively through the layers of denim. 

"I don't care. Come on," San groans low, hands adjusted at both sides of Yeosang's waist, moving so slowly Yeosang is not sure if he is rubbing their dicks together or it's just their choppy breathing adding movement to their bodies. 

Yeosang looks into San's eyes and he finds stars again, but the sky is darker this time. It makes his skin sparkle with electricity. "For real, it will take me one second."

Although his room being perfectly ready to bring a guest, it wasn't on Yeosang's mind to get naked tonight. He took a shower in the morning, but the sweat covering his skin makes it look like it's been ages since that.

"Dude," San throws his head back, jerking his hips forward. Yeosang presses his lips in a tight line, gobbling up his own moan because his erection is growing bigger with every rub and the fabric is starting to feel heavy all over his skin. "The moment you start soaping your dick you won't be able to stop and then you will be coming with a sad face and kicking me out because you came in your hand."

San gets closer, chests glued together. Yeosang is able to feel the way his own heart is hammering against his ribs, but he also gets the soft murmur of San's heart against his skin. He dares to look into San's eyes one more time, feeling weak on his legs. If it wasn't for San keeping him in place with two firm hands, Yeosang would've have fallen to his ass with San's next choice of words: 

"If you are going to cum, do it in my mouth. Please."

"Shit," Yeosang grits, drawing a chuckle out of San's moisturized lips with his stupid reaction. Body trembling, lips parted, a hitched breath stuck in the middle of his chest making friends with his heavy heart. 

One of San's hands falls on his face, fingers sweeping under his chin. The touch drives Yeosang crazy for some unexplained motive; San's fingers are cold and electric. 

(Or Yeosang's skin is blazing, one of the two).

"You're not a virgin, right?" San's words don't help at all with the carnivorous plants glowering inside. Yeosang is having a hard time understanding if he is excited or just embarrassed by the amount of power this stranger has over him. 

San is looking at him through a grin though his eyes are still peaceful. Still fixed on Yeosang.

"No," Yeosang blurts, averting his gaze in order to be on command of his own body again. 

The situation is ridiculous. 

Yeosang considers himself a very experienced person when it comes to sex. It was the desire of understanding how the world worked what threw him to his very first sexual encounter way too soon, and that first time didn't answer any of his concerns. So he kept trying. He kept trying to unravel the world with sex, understand what's so good about linking your heart to another person, what's so exciting about making love, what good can bring the aftermath cuddles to his life. To this day Yeosang's world is still matted albeit all his efforts had turned him into a very good  _ lover.  _

He knows his body and how to please it, and he knows how to please others just fine. Wooyoung doubted his abilities and Yeosang, who deep down hates being put into question, managed to make him cum in three minutes. Wooyoung hasn't ever doubted him again. 

Yeosang it's good at it, and he is always in control. It's been quite some time since Yeosang felt excited about fucking. 

No. It's been never since someone looked into his eyes and talked to him during sex. It's all new for Yeosang, and he decides that's the reason why his body is reacting like he is fifteen again and not the fact San's eyes seem to have casted him with just a blink. 

"I won't cum in your mouth though," Yeosang breathes after a short overthinking minute, San's gaze still outlining every feature of his face, fingers circling on his hips. Calm. Not rushed, not messy. Just the unknowingly calm. "That's nasty."

"It's not if I ask for it," San puckers his lips, moving to one side, easily placing his thigh between Yeosang's legs. Yeosang is embarrassed of how his body moves alone, without barriers, just letting San in to shamelessly rub his thigh against his semi hard like he is a regular in Yeosang's life. "I really want it."

San's hand, the one that's still holding Yeosang's face still, moves until it's resting on Yeosang's shoulder. He keeps grinding against him, slightly parting his lips to let out an airy moan that clashes as sweet as strawberries over Yeosang's skin.

Yeosang gulps, eyes moving down. To San's lips. They are not any better than his eyes. Plump and moisturized and exquisite and Yeosang never kisses. But the thought of kissing San crosses his mind for a second. That's also new. 

"Okay," he says in the end, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He tries hard to calm his frantic heart, the one that has never raced this fast in his life. 

_ This is nothing different from the usual, _ Yeosang thinks, taking a mouthful of air and trying to remain as calm as always when San's fingers softly trail his skin until they are reaching the final destination: his pants. The ridiculous belt Wooyoung lended him and the one that enraged Yeosang with it's complicated mechanism for five solid minutes opens like a spring flower in San's fingers. Easy. Yeosang's pants are sliding down in a second, and so is his underwear, unveiling his hard cock.

San mumbles something before dropping to his knees and Yeosang takes the chance to peek through his lashes. The view is fucking gorgeous. And for some reason, San is able to read his mind, totally looking at him back. Jet black hair cascading all over his forehead, flaring eyes bringing light to the subdued room.

And a smile that's a perfect mix of the sun and saturn, if that makes sense. Yeosang bets Yunho would say something like that. 

And his dick twitches alone against the fire of his abdomen. 

May it be because no one had ever looked at him the way San looks at him. In just one hour, because they met a mere hour ago, San has already reached further than half the people holding a script on Yeosang's personal movie. 

It's weird and scary and Yeosang shouldn't be feeling like this. It bugs him, itchy on his chest, so he is soon breaking eye contact and facing his own ceiling. 

"Yeosang," San whispers, fingers curling around the base of his length, the warm breath blooming goosebumps on the head of his dick. 

"I already agreed. If you want me to come in your mouth, then okay. Just," Yeosang sighs. 

_ Just suck me off already and stop looking at me.  _

"It wasn't that," San gabbles, lips brushing Yeosang's cock when he speaks. "You are beautiful. I've sucked a lot of dick in my life, but no one has ever looked this beautiful from down there. It's the first time I'm enjoying the view."

Yeosang feels how something trembles inside of his chest, and it might be all the air hitched in his ribs finally breaking down the place where his heart lies. One hand on his face, Yeosang lets out a shaky breath, ignoring the way San has stopped any movement, waiting for him to say something. 

_ You are beautiful.  _

It's not the first time those words float around the damp air of his room in the middle of sex. What bothers him is how different they sound now. Coming from a stranger.

A stranger that holds the universe within his eyes, but nothing more than a passerby. 

Someone that went unnoticed for the past three years, someone Yeosang wouldn't have taken to his room in the first place because he likes taller boys with big, veiny hands. 

He took that stranger into his room because the stranger put a bandaid on his nose. The stranger talked about fireflies. The stranger has his dick secured in his small hand and he still, he still looks up at Yeosang with a dimple smile.

San is so weird. 

"Thanks." Yeosang mumbles, one hand moving to thread on his hair. He is staring into the ceiling once again, San humming under his breath before leaning in, his tongue falling heavily on the head. 

Yeosang lets out the most desperate groan, body melting from the warmth that tongue spreads around his skin, slowly starting a dance around the girth, twisting and soaking everything in saliva. 

San has both hands occupied, one of them firmly wrapped around Yeosang, the other slightly moving, fingers softly pressing the skin of his waist. Without words, he asks Yeosang to shift. Three gentle squeezes and Yeosang is accommodating his body for San, angling his dick the way both of them can be comfortable. One hand flat against the wall, he arches his back as he slowly sinks in the warmth of San's mouth.

San's eyelids flutter closed, a low groan reverberating in his throat as he moves forward, taking Yeosang's entire length inside his mouth with such ease Yeosang has to blink fast to convince himself this is not a dream. Air swirling in the middle of his chest when San's nose bumps against his own hand secured at the end of the road, another moan vibrating, this time all over Yeosang. He feels it so deep he is soon gasping, the air rasping its way out. 

San starts bobbing his head slowly, in and out, the tiniest moans escaping his stuffed lips. Enjoying it. San is enjoying it so much his cheeks dust in vermilion and the hand on Yeosang's hip takes a tight grip. Fingers deliciously digging on his skin, picking a pace fast, saliva dripping from the corners of San's mouth. 

Yeosang is losing his mind. He dares to open his eyes to witness the show San is putting for him and he is smacked hard by how good it feels. How warm. How raw on his skin though the swirls of San's tongue are rather kind and gentle. His hips snap alone, dick brushing San's palate, reaching so far San's hand lets go. He just presses both of them on the wall, taking him deeper with every new bop of his head.

Something detaches from Yeosang's mind and suddenly, he doesn't know how to articulate any coherent word. He knows he wants to cum, and if San doesn't stop, everything will end rather faster than they thought. 

"San— _ Shit _ —" Yeosang takes his free hand to San's face, landing on his cheek. San's eyes flutter open with a loud moan, pupils so blown, Yeosang stands in front of the vast universe and his legs tremble a little. San leans into the touch like a cat, and if Yeosang puts enough attention, he would be able to catch the purr he is spilling right on the head of his cock. "Take it easy.  _ Please."  _

Yeosang is not the one to beg to stop, enjoying the calmness releasing everything inside brings him. He always prefers it short and deep and intense, going to sleep early and without a single thought in his mind. His head is being sucked by a whirlwind of unnamed feelings and everything he was is becoming dust. Yeosang rises like a new persona for the night and this time, he wants to last a little more. Just a little bit more. 

He applies pressure to San's hollow cheek, adding to his beg.

San moves back, tongue swivelling all over his length in the way. His hand moves fast, catching him once his lips are parting red and empty in front of Yeosang. His cock painfully throbs around immobile fingers, San's smug smile sketching in the middle of the universe.

"Your taste is exquisite, Yeosang," he sighs, tongue meeting his lower lip. "Best dick I've ever had."

"Thanks?"

Yeosang is breathless and it's been less than five minutes.

"You are adorable," San giggles, tongue circling right under the head at the same time his hand moves, fingers sticking with both saliva and precome, blooming flowers out of Yeosang's pleasure. "Will you come for me? Hmm?"

"Huh, yeah, but…"

"But?"

It's quite hard to formulate words with San's eyes all over his naked skin. Spreading him apart with a raise of his eyebrows. So easy, Yeosang takes a second from the dream he is walking in to become romantic. 

Where has San been all his life?

He shakes his head, all those thoughts dripping out from his ears. It's just infatuation. His heart feels happy with the attention, and Yeosang's always been a sucker from compliments and being the center of someone else's world. 

"Nothing," Yeosang sighs. "It was nothing."

"You're worried about something," San catches, more perceptive than Yeosang guessed. "It's the shower again?"

The air flows out of Yeosang's lungs so fast he is soon losing his balance, San's arm curling around his waist to keep him in place. Yeosang's fingers dig on San's shoulder.

"It's not the shower. Shut up and finish what you started."

San's entire body shakes with laughter, rubbing his nose against Yeosang's abdomen. Lips falling lightly on his skin. Yeosang's stomach contracts because,  _ shit _ , San is so gently kissing his stomach.

"You're so cute, Yeosang." 

Definitely, San is weird. And he is also the type of person driven by a natural desire of taking care of others regardless of the friendship status. In this case, just two boys that didn't want to be at a party.

Yeosang's new to that. All the caring during sex.

"Yeah, I guess," he mumbles. "Can we just finish this so you can go home?"

Yeosang doesn't intend to sound rude, he is just thinking way too much and this isn't supposed to be happening.

"Yes, sir."

San remains calm, and that's the only thing preventing Yeosang from kicking him out. San is just here to suck dick. Maybe he is moved by his innate impulses of taking care, but it doesn't go deeper than that. Just sucking a dick, then going home.

Casual. 

Yeosang's throat falls dry when San's lips curl around the head of his dick once again and by now Yeosang is running so naked it takes only a few swirls of San's tongue for his body to contract under all the fire spilled in his lower stomach. 

He comes hard on San's tongue, just like he wanted. San sucks every drop of him, and maybe he ends up sucking the life out of Yeosang in the way because once he is pulling up with a loud content sigh, Yeosang feels emptied of everything he ever was.

Just because of a blowjob.

The best blowjob he had ever received, but still a little bit embarrassing coming from him. Maybe this is exactly how Wooyoung felt that time—Yeosang moves through the stickiness of his brain to make a mental note to apologise to Wooyoung for sucking his dick into an existential crisis. 

When San stands up, his eyes have turned liquid. Yeosang barely catches all the stars melting there before San is moving forward with clear intentions. Yeosang is glad there's still a minimal flow of blood to his brain alerting him, covering San's lips with his hand before he reaches Yeosang's lips. It was close.

"Don't kiss me," he says in a drained voice.

"Why?" San's lips brush against his skin, softly, chest moving up and down, still feeling all the rush.

"I don't kiss."

"Why?"

"Kissing is way too intimate?" Yeosang sighs. His brain is melting and paddling on his chest at the same speed San's eyes are. He really wants to take that shower now, and maybe hibernate until January. 

"I just had your dick in my mouth," the boy purrs, sticking his tongue to lick Yeosang's fingers. "And your cum."

Yeosang's thighs twitch, eyes narrowing towards San's smirk.

"Emotionally intimate, I mean. I don't do love," Yeosang stresses. 

"You can kiss without being in love."

Yeosang clicks his tongue. "I won't take the chance."

If he felt cracked open with just one look in his eyes, he doesn't want to go to the right place where San's lips will make him question his entire purpose in life. 

"That's a shame, I am an amazing kisser," San smiles, not ashamed to kiss Yeosang's hand to prove it. And it feels nice, warm around his palm, exciting enough to softly rise his dick between his thighs. And Yeosang is so tired he moans in defeat, moving his hand back and also his head, exposing his neck to protect his own virgin lips.

"Just… Don't kiss me."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"One hundred percent sure?" San raises both eyebrows. 

"San," Yeosang cries.

San giggles, getting close to the point he is crushing Yeosang with his body, his own erection feeling rock hard against Yeosang's skin now. Fully erected, suffocated inside the jeans, shamelessly rubbing around Yeosang's own sensitive cock.

He can't help the slight moan parting his lips. 

"Just think about it," San mumbles against the skin of his neck. "Don't come begging later."

Yeosang is one hundred percent sure. San might be different to every single person he had taken to his bed in the past, but one weird night is not strong enough to break Yeosang's defenses. He is still thinking love is not made for him, and that he is not made for love either. 

And Saturn won't be changing that in spite of how beautiful his glow appears to be in the middle of Yeosang's tiny universe. 

"I am sure. I won't beg."

"Okay."

San speaks through desire, tongue already licking on his skin. It's casual, and it's sheer pleasure. And they both know it.

And letting San bite his neck, Yeosang is coming undone in just a second. 

**Author's Note:**

> yeosang I can assure you I will make you BEG 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_blueaurora) | | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/sanios)


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